


Frequencies

by Lauren_is_a_moron



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M, Science Experiments
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 12:42:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6956875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lauren_is_a_moron/pseuds/Lauren_is_a_moron
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In a world where talent, luck and intelligence are measured by the frequency you give off; Dan Howell has a frequency of 126 and Phil Lester is a minuscule 56.  But with high frequency comes no empathy.  Dan Howell cannot feel.  Phil wants to help, but there is a severe reaction when they even get near each other.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Frequencies

It was at ten years old that Phil Lester and Dan Howell realised a mixture of fate and science had told them they were not meant to be together.

It started with the rain.

Phil only meant to ask Dan if he wanted to play a game. He knew Mrs. Forks forbid any High Frequencies from interacting and communicating with low frequencies, because of the reaction. They were like magnets repelling from each other. And Dan Howell and Phil Lester were on the opposite sides of the spectrum. They were the kinds of children who would grow up and cause havoc when they so much as touched each other.

But at that moment in time, with the sun shining brightly in the sky, illuminating the playground outside the mediocre building for  Mrs. Forks primary school for the gifted. Shadows danced across the concrete as children, his classmates, played. But with their own frequencies of course. Phil sat alone on the swing set, slowly pushing himself backwards and forwards, his trainers scuffing against the harsh concrete.

Phil realised at that moment, that he didn’t really care. He didn’t care that he was a genius in a school full of prodigy’s. All he cares about was going over across the playground and asking the brunette boy with the brown eyes, the cold eyes, if he could play with him. Phil jumped off the swing and walked across the playground, passing kids all having high frequencies. He felt their feedback and winced, a blossoming pain starting to crawl across his forehead.

The brunette boy was sitting on the grass with a piece of paper and a crayon. Phil made his way over warily, and once standing in front of the boy, opened his mouth and spoke softly. “Hello.”

The brunette boy’s head snapped up, and Phil found himself staring into eyes the colour of crunchy Autumn leaves, speckled gold and a million other different colours. He was speechless for a second and didn’t register the softly spoken reply from the brunette.

“Hello.” the boy was staring at him. He wasn’t smiling and he didn’t look annoyed. He just stared. The boy cleared his throat. “My name’s Dan Howell,” he said, and his tone was so empty that Phil resisted the urge to take a step back. Why did the brunette look beautiful but not sound beautiful? The words caught in his throat, but instead he smiled and said, “My names Phil Lester.”

Dan didn’t smile, and Phil wanted him to, expected him to. But Dan just went back to staring intently at the piece of paper in his hand. “Do you, umm-” Phil struggled to get his words out and Dan looked back up at him and smiled. But it was too big, too much teeth and not enough reason why the boy would be smiling so much. “Do I what?” Dan asked, again in that empty voice of a machine.

Phil fiddled with his fingers, steepling them and trying hard not to shout at the boy. Did Dan not like him? Did the boy only want to play with kids with his own frequency?

“Do you want to- to..” Phil drifted off when he felt something light and wet fall onto his forehead. He glanced up at the sky, and there it was again. This time in his eye. Rain. The sky had turned an ominous grey, and rain started to fall, first lightly, spitting onto the two boys, dotting the concrete. But when Dan, cocking his head with what looked like another forced smile, took a step towards Phil, the rain got heavier; raindrops increasing in size battering them, battering the playground as their classmates.

Phil felt it in his head first; a sharp pain. Dan would have too, but instead the ten year old boy frowned and jump back, away from Phil. The pain in Phil’s head evaporated just like that, and the sky once again turned back to crystal blue. Phil stared up at the sky, and then at Dan. The boy was staring at him too, his chestnut hair sticking to his forehead, both of them were soaked. Standing a few meters apart. Dan, after gazing curiously at the other boy, held out his hand experimentally, and so did Phil. They reached out as if to touch, but never quite getting there. Dan cleared his throat and spoke in his incredibly dead and empty tone, which may have annoyed Phil, but he was too busy staring at their hands, reached out as if to hold, but instead staying limp in mid-air.

“Phil Lester, did we just make it rain?”

—-

-12 years old-

His eyes were so bright and beautiful, Phil couldn’t help thinking to himself. So why did he waste such beauty and vanity with an ugly personality? Phil wanted to run away, he really did. Something inside him telling him that this was a bad idea, that he should turn and run, and never look back. He took a deep breath, could feel beads of sweat running down his face, the nape of his neck. Strands of his fringe stuck to his forehead so he looked ridiculous. But Dan was here. Beautiful, stoic and completely and utterly emotionless Dan Howell, and his clipboard.

“Ten seconds.” Dan said, in that wonderfully deadpan tone that Phil had gotten used to. His brown eyes drift to the clock which was mounted on the walls. One of Dression Academy’s most ancient and prized possessions. That clock dated back to the late 1800’s. It’s face worn and dusty, but the hands still told the time. Which was all that mattered. Daniel James Howell stood, as usual with that small smile, not quite happy or excited or any other emotion. It was more curious. He has his usual attire on, his school uniform, same as Phil. Black pants and a white shirt. Perfectly pressed and bleached white. He couldn’t help frowning at the boy in front of him. Phil Lester. The boy who had agreed to help him with his experiments. The boy with the scruffy black hair and wide blue eyes. The not-quite white shirt and black pants hanging off a wiry and thin frame.

Dan clutched his clipboard tighter to his chest and braced himself for the reaction. “Step a little closer to me,” he said with the tone of a child who always got his own way. Phil did. He took one step forwards, and the feeling in his stomach grew worse, his blue eyes grew wide and Dan would have thought, if Phil’s skin wasn’t already translucent, the boy would have gone white. The two of them waited a few seconds; Phil with that overwhelming urge to lean in and brush his lips against Dan’s, and the brunette boy anticipating the reaction. Both boys stood there for a few more seconds, Dan eyeing his watch, and Phil staring at every strand of hair brushed neatly across Dan’s forehead, wondering if he would ever get the chance to sweep it from the brunette boy’s eyes when he grew older. Dan caught Phil’s stare, and cocked his head. “What are you staring at?”

Phil let himself smile, because why not? He enjoyed seeing the spark of curiosity in Dan’s eyes. “I’m staring at you.” he said softly, and Dan, feeling absolutely nothing, glanced at his clipboard because nothing was worse than someone staring at him. It meant he had to do something back; some human emotion he wasn’t used to feeling because of the side effects. He knew he should laugh or cry, or feel flattered. But he felt completely empty.

So Daniel Howell nodded at his clipboard and swallowed the lump in his throat that wasn’t there, stretched his lips into a smile which wasn’t genuine. “Oh.” he tried to smile again, but it didn’t look right. Phil opened his mouth to say something, but instead let out a startled yell when the clock which had been counting down their inevitable reaction dropped and smashed into the floor. Dan took a step backwards, and then when the ancient clock was lying at his feet in shattered fragments, he nodded at his test subject.

“Four minutes.” Dan said, and Phil frowned at the broken clock. “Four minutes?” his tone might have been a little desperate and squeaky, the effects of puberty starting to blossom. “Is that how long we’re allowed to stay together?”

Dan nodded. “Yes.”

Phil stared at the boy. “So, we can’t-” he caught himself on the words. “We can’t hang out together?”

Dan held his clipboard tighter to his chest. “I don’t think you understand, Phil. When we are close, something happens. A reaction.” the boy tried very hard to smile, but it looked as fake as what he was feeling right now. Which was nothing. Phil only smiled and held out his hand. “Do you always have to listen to Science?” his blue eyes were soft. “Can’t we see if we can at least touch?” Phil’s smile was teasing. “It’ll contribute to the experiment?”

Dan didn’t answer, but he already found himself reaching out slowly, his breath even compared to Phil’s which was haggard and throaty. Phil was holding out his own hand, and his heart was hammering as they were so close…so close to touching, so close to a reaction. “Just a little closer,” Phil whispered, and Dan nodded, wishing he could  feel what the other boy was feeling. Wishing he could feel the anticipation and nerves, the sick feeling in his gut and the happiness at finally, oh god, finally touching Phil Lester’s hand.

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

Both boys jumped back, Phil, letting out a hiss, and Dan being able to locate the sound, and then wanting incredibly hard to cry, because they had set the fire alarm off.

Phil slammed his hands over his ears, and yes, the noise was irritating and loud, but it didn’t really faze Dan. He only stepped back. The sound of footsteps as students flooded from their classrooms, stampeding the hallways and stairs as teachers yelled the usual fire-drill instructions. “I should go. My form tutor will be waiting,” Dan said, and his smile was even, his eyes so warm that he almost believed he was actually feeling.

“Okay!” Phil yelled back over the screech of the fire drill, which sounded like a cross between a dental drill and a car alarm. “I- uh, I’ll see you later?!” he stepped forward to hug Dan, before realising what he was doing, and backed away slowly, before turning and running back down the corridors to join his classmates. Dan stood there for a second, willing himself to cry- willing himself to feel something! But all he could do was glance down at his clipboard, and trace the paper with his index finger, tracing the ticks and crosses which lined the page. Then he straightened up, pulled his best fake smile, and turned around and walked down the corridor, perfectly polished shoes crunching in the broken fragments of the ancient clock which was now beyond fixing.

—-

Three years later, Phil Lester had thought it best to not go near Dan Howell. The older they got, the stronger their frequency. Dan became a prefect- one of the smartest kids in the year, and perhaps the whole school. Phil had failed nearly all of his exams, but was surprisingly to the dismay of his teachers, still intelligent enough to stay in Dression Academy. He was what you would call an average student; a learner with potential to become nothing more than an office worker.

“Phil, you can’t stay in this school. The reaction between yourself and Mr. Howell’s frequencies are impossible to ignore.”

Mrs. Jessop had tried so hard not to grit her teeth, and it was clear when she spoke. Phil had ignored her, rolling his eyes. He hated Dan. The stoic, moody little shit who was nothing but a human machine. He hated that Dan was top of all of his classes. But mostly, he hated that he couldn’t go near the bastard. If he did, science equipment would shatter and explode- if they were near water, it would start to bubble and tremble, the school swimming pool had ended up being shut down since year nine, where Phil, who had been daydreaming and trying to function on three hours sleep, had found himself smacking bang straight into the chest of Dan Howell, who had been walking up and down the pool edge, coaching a year seven

“I’m-” Phil looked terrified as he realised who or rather what he was touching. He was touching a human time bomb who only seemed to erupt when he was near.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to-”

It was too late for any of them to get as far away from each other as possible, because before any of them could do anything- Phil standing with his mouth wide and eyes frantic, and Dan frowning warily at the aqua coloured water as it started to bubble and hiss before boiling. Dan, arms folded, calmly told the year seven to climb out of the pool, and then ran back to the changing room. Phil could only stumble backwards and watch a wave of water erupt from the pool, and splash down on the unsuspecting student body.

After that incident, the pool was closed down, and Phil didn’t speak to Dan for two years. Nothing has happened, since the two of them kept their distance. Dan stayed stoic, and if anything, his eyes grew colder as the school years crept on- he grew taller, his brown hair growing longer and obscuring his vision, as well as sometimes his very fake smile.

Phil managed to find friends, both low frequencies- PJ Liguori and Louise Pentland. He too grew taller, and dyed his hair a deep obsidian black. It had been exactly three years since he had touched Dan Howell. He forgot what the feedback felt like, since Dan avoided him like plague. He missed their experiments. Seeing how long they could stay close before something exploded.

The scariest experiment was when they were fourteen years old. They had been standing out in the playing field; Dan with his usual clipboard and forced smile, and Phil stood there looking lost, and maybe just a little bit in love. His cheeks had been flushed, and his eyes were wide. They had been standing, almost touching, for two and a half minutes now. And nothing had happened yet.

“Do you think we could….?” Phil reached out to touch Dan’s chest, or his hand, or maybe the stupid fringe which was growing far too long in his eyes. Dan shook his head slowly.

“Not yet.”

They waited. A minute went by, and Phil was shaking, his heart was hammering and the smile on his lips was almost infectious. That was if Dan could feel. “Dan, I think- I think it’s okay.” Phil said softly. And Dan almost, almost believed him. That was until the bird, flying high in the sky above them, seemed to lose control of itself- it let out a terrified squawk alerting the two boys, whose heads snapped up automatically; Phil’s expression tragic and Dan’s, empty and heartless.

The bird smashed into the tree which they stood under, an ugly, disgusting crunch of beak snapping against rough wood. And then to Phil’s dismay, another squawk and snap of a beak breaking, followed by another one and another one- they kept coming, and Phil was too frozen in fear to think to move away from Dan, who snapped out of the trance state he had been in, staring as bird after bird sickeningly smashed themselves into the tree.

“Dan!” Phil managed to stumble away from the brunette, who only took a few steps backwards of his own, before turning and walking away. Not even looking back.

That was the last thing Phil had said to Dan in three years.

“Phil? Hey, are you even listening to me?” PJ’s voice seemed to seep back into Phil’s thought processes, and he snapped out of it, coming back to. Year ten english class. He was sitting, or rather slumping at his desk. PJ Liguori, the closet he had to a best friend, sat beside him and was in the process of poking him with a sharp pencil.

“Ow,” Phil grumbled, snatching the pencil from his friend and laughing half heartedly. “That hurt!”

His friend only smiled. “It was meant to, dumb ass! You’ve been daydreaming all lesson!”

Phil shrugged, and he couldn’t help his gaze drifting over the heads of his classmates, kids he had known since Mrs. Forks’s primary school for the gifted. He spotted a familiar mop of perfectly straightened brunette hair sitting at the very front of the class, as far away from him as possible. Dan Howell.

“When are you going to understand that you and Dan are like soup and ice-cream, or salt and chocolate,” PJ sighed. “You’re not meant to be together, dude. You’re a minus, and he’s a plus. Your frequencies fucking freak out if you even go near each other!”

That didn’t stop Phil fantasising about touching Dan without something dying, or exploding. His fingers twitches with the overwhelming urge to hold the brunette’s hand, even if it meant just for a few seconds.

When class was over, he found his locker and started to dig around for his history textbook. “Phil.” he nearly jumped out of his skin when the voice, as well of oh-so familiar sharp pain struck in the back of his head and crawled across his forehead. He shut his locker, wincing, and turned to find Dan Howell standing there directly in front of him.

“Hi.” Dan said, with no smile. Phil felt the pain worsening and wondered if Dan felt the same. “Your nose,” was Phil could choke out and he lifted a shaky finger to point at the scarlet stream which began gushing from Dan’s nose. Dan touched the red streak of blood tentatively and hummed quietly.

“I’m bleeding.” he said, but it was more a question than a statement.

“Dan, what are you doing here?” The pain was agonising now, and Phil had to bite his tongue to stop himself from crying out.

Dan smiles his fake smile, and blood continues to run from his nose. “I’ve decided that I’m going to ignore science- ignore frequencies and ignore..” Dan seemed to actually shudder. “And ignore the theory behind falling in love.” he coughed then, and his lips were suddenly wet with blood. “Phil Lester, I..I don’t care that we could explode, or some stupid reaction,” he held himself and bit his lip tentatively. “All I want to do is feel, and- and I think you’re the only one who can help me.”

Phil opened his mouth to say something, or maybe cry out, because the pain was immense. But Dan only smiled that damn fake smile and took a step forwards. The lockers around them started to tremble, other students backing away as papers started to levitate in the air around them. Dan wiped his nose and inhaled. “I want to try something.”

Before Phil could answer, Dan grabbed him and pulled him close, so damn close, and Dan’s lips which were stained scarlet and wet, were brushing against his own. The two of them stayed in the embrace for a few seconds, waiting for the reaction, but not pulling away. The pain was like a vice against Phil’s skull, but Dan’s lips were warm, and the boy was laughing into the kiss, he was laughing and pulling away, and the most alien expression was on Dan’s face; plastered there as Phil pulled out of the kiss.

Dan was laughing and crying, his eyes finally bright and excited. He was feeling. Phil found himself unable to speak, because Dan wasn’t letting go of him, and the lockers were shaking and the floor was shaking, and any second now, something would explode. Something would drop or die.

Phil didn’t care. He held onto Dan, and held onto the boy so he would never have to let go. He buried his face in Dan’s shoulders at the very end. He listened to Dan’s laugh as the pain got so intense, he felt himself drop. But something, or someone caught him.

And then there was nothing. No reaction or Big Bang, or explosion in his brain. There was nothing.

And Dan was still laughing.

There was only silence for a second, before Phil, breathing hard, dared to open his eyes. He was aware of Dan holding his weight, and looked around groggily for a second. Nothing had exploded, his head seemed okay…

“We…” he started to say, but was caught off guard when familiar broad arms pulled him to a standing position. “You can’t find your significant other through somebody with a different frequency,” Dan’s voice was different. Softer and sweet. Phil looked up to see Dan standing there with the biggest grin on his face, his mouth and nose still stained a crusty scarlet. Phil recognised the words Dan was reciting. Words he had been taught his whole life. “We fall in love through our Frequencies. They define us, and make us who we are. My ass.” Dan smirked and leaned in for another kiss, this time the floor trembled and the lights flickered above them, but neither of them pulled away.

 


End file.
